Ravage (Royal Fae Academy #1) - Lacey Carter Andersen Page 0,35

or the school, whose lives are more fragile than our own.

There are a couple of trees spread amongst the headstones, massive weeping willows. They’re a favorite species of mine, and they tower above the graveyard, covered in long leaves that are like curtains falling from the branches. These trees often attract Black Widows. Not the spiders, of course, but women who murdered their husbands in life. Many of the Black Widows are so poisoned by their choices that they have no rest, even in death, and tend to drift about the weeping willows.

I have a Black Widow back home. She tells the dirtiest jokes.

Opening the small fence around the graveyard, the squeals of the hinges cut through the night and make the hairs on my arms stand on end. I start to walk the well-tended path that weaves through the grounds, but it doesn’t take long to see the shimmering silhouette of a ghost not far ahead. I glance around the shadows of this quiet place, looking for anyone who might be watching me. Anyone who might see a “light” fae talking to herself. When I see nothing, I stretch out my senses and release a slow breath. Still nothing.

I feel my shoulders relax, and I head toward the ghost. It takes a minute of walking to recognize that it’s the young fae woman I’d met the night before. Her dress falls gracefully around her, a color that was probably a pale pink at some point, but now gives her almost the impression of a lady in white. And I have a special fondness for the ladies in white, no matter how much people fear them. Somehow I never imagined even a light fae ghost fitting into a graveyard, but she does. Almost perfectly.

“Hello,” I greet.

Her head jerks up, and she looks back at me with wide eyes, before her expression gentles. “Oh, it’s just you.”

I nod and come to stand beside her. She’s looking down at a grave that reads, “Abigail Moonwood, Beloved Daughter.”

“Is that you?” I ask.

“Yes,” she says, and there’s an overwhelming sadness to her voice.

“Do you mind if I ask how you died?” My ghosts and monsters love to tell their stories, but I’ve never encountered a light fae ghost before. I’m not entirely sure of the etiquette.

After a second she says, “I was poisoned. Though they believed it was some kind of virus. My symptoms were similar to the Blood Plague. But that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted to scare people into burying me quickly and asking few questions.”

“Who did it?” I ask, surprised. Not that such a thing had happened, but that it happened in a school full of light fae.

She’s quiet for a long moment. “My younger sister. She wanted to rule our house, and she wanted my mate.”

My gut clenches. “Was she successful on both fronts?”

Abigail smiles. “She got my house, but never my Jareth.”

“At least that I’m glad for,” I say, and then we’re both smiling.

Leaning down, I wipe away some of the dirt from her headstone and tidy the area. When I’m done, she whispers, “Thank you,” but she doesn’t need to. The dead may be gone, but I know better than anyone they’re never truly forgotten. The least I can do is tend the gravesite of a young woman murdered by her own blood.

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “Surely you’re not just out to see me?”

“Actually,” I rise, wiping my hands on my pants, “I was looking for you. I wanted to see if you could show me how to get to the tunnels under the school.”

A wave of fear hits me so hard that I stagger, then draw my walls up a little tighter. “Abigail…”

“You don’t want to go there,” she rushes out. “It isn’t just that Rayne died in the tunnels. They’re dangerous. There’s dangerous creatures in them, and the secrets within them are meant to be kept.”

I hold her gaze. “I know, but I’m not going to stop until I prove my brother was murdered. Will you please help me?”

She looks reluctant.

“Please. For Rayne.”

Slowly, she nods. “I’ll take you to the entrance, but that’s as far as I’ll go.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

As we start to walk, I sense a creature not far behind us. It smells of blood and death. It smells of that strange combination of brimstone and what I imagine sunshine to smell like, if it had a scent. I feel within it such anger and hunger. Tonight, it hunts,